Letters
by katbybee
Summary: This is an ongoing series of letters between Newkirk and his cousin. Each letter/chapter relates their various experiences. Pvt. Hugh MacDonald is a character from the 1968 MGM movie "The Devil's Brigade" Don't own a thing. R/R. (Note: Events in this story not canon to my other stories.) Also, re: photos, etc...I know censors would disallow 90%, so I claim creative license ;-)
1. Never Pick on a Chemist

Letters: #1 Never Pick on a Chemist

Mail call was always crazy in Barracks 2, so Sgt. Schultz had perfected a method in order to come away from the experience relatively unscathed. He stepped into the doorway, bundle of letters in hand and tossed them quickly up to Newkirk, whose bunk was closest to the door. He then shut the door before the wolves had a chance to gather. Better to let the Englander get mobbed than him!

He chuckled to himself as he heard the sounds of bumping, swearing and general chaos erupt inside the barracks, along with Newkirk's indignant shouting. Shultz paused to listen as this was always the best part. "Ere, 'ang on ye mangy curs!" A pause and then "Oi, sorry, Colonel, meant nowt disrespect, sir!" Which was followed by a shout of laughter, and then more general rioting for the precious bits of home.

Eventually, Peter got all the men and their letters sorted out, and things settled down as they all sat back to take in news from the outside world. Occasionally, someone would read a bit out loud, or share something of general interest. Newkirk was excited, as he'd finally gotten a letter from his cousin Hugh MacDonald, a Canadian Army private. " 'e says 'e's been stationed with a new fightin' outfit, working wit' ta Yanks. Says 'e'll write me all about it, but 'e says they don' get on a t'all."

Hogan looked up from the letter from his father, "I heard something about that from London…your cousin's there, hmm?"

"Aye, 'e's a good lad, f'r a Scot. Bit of a temper. Can't imagine where 'e got that…" he chuckled " 'e's a few years older'n me, but we get along like a house afire. We'd terrorize the neighborhood when 'is family'd visit when we were kids."

Cooper grew misty-eyed when he shared that his sister was getting married. "The last time I saw her, she was nervous, because she was just starting high school, and didn't think anybody would like her."

Carter nodded. "I know what that was like. The day I started high school, these three guys locked me in my gym locker and I got stuck there all night." He nonchalantly went back to reading his letter. Rather shocked, the others stared at him. Finally, Kinch asked, "So did you get them back?"

Carter glanced up and smiled. "Of course I did. They were all in my chemistry class." And he went back to his letter.

Hogan looked at the others and took the bait. "So, what happened?"

Carter glanced up, "They transferred to Harrison High three weeks later. Pretty much nobody messed with me after that."

LeBeau couldn't stand it anymore. "But what did you _do_ to them?"

By this time, most of the men in the barracks had abandoned their letters and were listening to the exchange with rapt fascination. Carter's tales of home were legendary.

Carter scratched his ear and thought for a moment.

"Well, I turned most of Ralph Sutter's face and his hands green with a cologne I made with invisible ink that reacts to body temperature; I convinced Ronnie Talus he was shrinking 'cause I hypnotized him; and, ummm, well…" suddenly Carter turned red and sighed. "I did something really mean to Bobby Matheson."

Newkirk looked up from his rather long letter, and asked, "Cor, mate, what could ye 'ave done that was so bad? There's nowt a mean bone in ye, lad!"

Still blushing, Andrew told his friends, "I read about this chemical that if you drink it, it makes your, ummm, your uhhh, privates, ummm, shrivel. Not permanently or anything…but, mixed some and I slipped it into his milk, and it, umm, worked and he kind of freaked out…"

Hogan sat at the table in awed silence for a moment, staring at his youngest team member. "And you were, what, fourteen at the time?"

"No, sir. I was actually thirteen. I skipped eighth grade. That's why they were picking on me, 'cause I was a lot smaller than a lot of the guys, and kind of smart." He shrugged and started to pick up his letter as Hogan glanced around the room and then back at Carter, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Gentlemen, I think an important lesson has just been taught here."

LeBeau arched an eyebrow. "Never underestimate a chemist?"

Newkirk chuckled and shook his head. "No, mate! Never, but NEVER piss off our Carter!"

Hogan grinned and nodded as Carter doggedly returned to his letter doing his best to stop blushing. As for the rest of the men, well, they do say you learn something new every day…

~The End~

A/N: Chocolate chip cookies to anyone who can tell me who Hugh MacDonald is and where he came from!

Also, I know zip about chemistry, so all those facts are TOTALLY imaginary. I just thought they sounded good…


	2. Hugh's Letter to Peter 2 Sep 42

This is the letter Peter received in Chapter 1.

(See A/Ns for Scottish or English word/slang translations as needed)

Pvt. Hugh MacDonald

Section Leader, RCA

United States APO

Ft. William Henry Harrison

Helena, Montana

Cpl. Peter Newkirk

Royal Air Force

LuftStalag 13

c/o American Red Cross

London, England W-1

2 Sep 42

Hallo Pete,

So finally I got a chance to put down a line. I wanted to write you on the way down, but there was no chance on the train. It was simply too crowded. Always a bit overmuch, those transports, you know…of course, you do.

How are you getting on? Mum and Da sent their regards last time I heard from them, and told me to tell you they're praying for both of us if I heard from you…as if, right, mate? Think they've been doin' that since the first time we burned down the _kirk_ in the village when you came to stay with us that one summer…never convinced them it really **was** an accident! 'Course, guess the pack of ciggies they caught us with 'ad _summat_ to do with that…

I know you can't tell me much, but what is Germany like? At least you got to do some flyin' before you got captured. I can't imagine how hard it is for you now, just sitting around doing nothing all the time! You never could sit still, even as an adult! I remember after your da kicked you out and you joined that circus and traveled all over… Remember when it came to Glasgow, and I brought the kids to see you. You were _pure quality_ , you were! I'll never forget how you came down and pulled those coins and feathers an' stuff outta tha _barra's_ ears an' _claes_ …t'was amazin'! Niver seen a buncha kiddies so proud of their cousin in me life. They talked about that day for weeks. Angus tried for weeks to figure out that coin trick.

Niver got a chance to thank you for that before, mate. I know your old man was right _jakey_ , Peter; an' I know you worry you're gonna be summat like 'im someday. Don't. I've seen you _pure_ smashed outta your gourd, an' you niver once ever _skelped_ anybody, let alone a woman or kid. What your da did to you was unforgiveable, an' I know me da wanted ta take a club to 'im more than once, but your Mum wouldn't have it. Blamed tha _Kaiser War_ an' herself, mostly, I guess. But anyever, don't let the fear of bein' like that _glaikit munter_ ruin your chances for happiness for the rest of your life. If you meet tha right woman…go and love, Peter! Don't be afraid!

Okay, cousin, lecture over. I got a few _munters_ of me own to deal with 'ere. The Yanks in this godforsaken place are mostly a buncha _huddy neds_. Needless to say, we don't get on at all an' I fail to see how the hell they expect to ever get this "combat unit" off the ground. Gotta go. Time to catch a _kip_.

Write me and let me know how you are and whatever you can tell me about your life as a POW. Sorry as hell you had to get shot down. I know you miss being able to fight the Jerries.

Blight the Buggers, anyway!

Hugh

~TBC~

A/Ns:

The addresses may not be historically accurate. I figured the Red Cross in London might not give a street address because of the bombings, since they might have to switch locations at a moment's notice.

I realize that in reality, (and even on the show) a lot of things got censored and redacted by the Germans. I will try not to add too much that might be censored, but please assume that everything in these letters would be able to be read by the cousins, especially because of their use of slang, which meant nothing to the Germans (think of Hogan convincing Klink that a Bronx Cheer was a compliment…)

 _Kaiser War_ —This is how many Europeans and others refer to WW1.

Please Note: Scotland uses three languages and numerous dialects. I don't know if all of these were in use in 1942, so please bear with me and just suspend reality if they were not. Thanks!)

 _kirk_ —church

 _summat_ —something (also English slang)

 _pure quality_ —totally excellent

 _barra_ —child

ned—acronym for 'non-educated delinquent', useless waster, troublemaker

 _claes_ —clothes

 _jakey_ —alcoholic, with an extremely poor lifestyle as a result

 _skelped_ —hit or smacked someone or something

 _glaikit munter_ —stupid ugly person ( _munters_ — ugly people)

catch a _kip_ —go to sleep


	3. Peter's Leter to Hugh 21 Sep 42

21 Sep 42

Dear Hugh:

Hope this letter finds you healthy. Am doing okay for now. We just had a bad bout of sickness go through the camp. Hope never to go through that again. I didn't get it as bad as some of the others but the screamin' trots in the middle of the night when you have to holler for the guards not to shoot you on the way to the latrine ain't no joke, mate!

What is your training like? Is it as bad as boot camp? Worse? What are the others like? Any idea what kind of assignment you're gonna get, or where you're gonna go?

Funny you should mention burning down that kirk when we was kids. I never forgot the hidin' yer old man gave the both of us over that! 'Course, it wasn't so bad for you…I got it again from my old man when I got back to Stepney!

You asked about Germany. Well, cuz, most of what I have seen was what I flew over, and then what I fell into when my plane was shot down. Sorry to disappoint you. It was mostly forest and Krauts. Not much to recommend it, anyroads.

The circus…I remember that day like it was yesterday. Cor, the kiddies must be all grown up by now! 'ard to imagine…That's part of what is so bad about just sittin' day after day. The world outside just keeps turnin' without me. You pegged that part about me just about right. I get a few games of poker up an' endless games of gin with me mates, but other than that, there's not much to do, really.

As far as the old man goes, I put that all behind me years ago. At least, as much as I can. I know yer right about me never cloutin' a bird or a kid, but I guess I won't ever really know for sure. It still scares me sometimes. But no use worryin' since the right bird has never come along, and sure isn't likely to for a long time.

If the Yanks give you too much grief, let me know…we'll put our 'eads together an' give 'em hell. It would give me somethin' to do over here.

Do you have a particular mate? My best mate here is a bloke named Andrew Carter. He's a bit daft, but as quality as they come. And if he had been one of our mates when we were kids…Oi! 'Eaven 'elp the village! It makes me laugh just thinkin' about it!

As you can tell, yes, I very much miss being able to fight the Jerries. I'll just 'ave to leave that up to you, your mates, and the Yanks.

Remember what I told you when you enlisted?

Pete


	4. Hugh's Letter to Peter 17 Oct 42

17 Oct 42

Dear Pete:

Just received your letter. Sorry to hear you were sick. Glad to hear you didn't get it as bad as some of the others. We have had our share here as well, but nothing serious so far. Mostly just some of the others trying to adjust to the altitude and the fact it's starting to get cold, neither of which bothers our boys a bit, me especially. I have tried to explain to a few of the others what Scotland is like, but as you well know, trying to explain a country of such extremes is near impossible. I end up telling them they must see her for themselves to understand her beauty and her wildness, and most especially her mountains. There is nothing here even compares. God knows, I miss her, mate!

Training is tough, but pretty much as I expected…tougher than boot camp in that it's a bit more intense, but nothing I cannae handle. It's interesting to watch the Yanks try to keep up with us. The colonel seems determined to pit us against each other… to force us to fight for superiority one o'er the other. I don't understand his reasoning, but I don't make a habit of questioning officers, either. I'll do me job and see what comes of it. I'm thinking Major Crown does nae like it a bit, either.

As you know, I have the greatest respect for Major Crown, and he is the one who will have to work out the situation with Col. Frederick and Major Bricker. I must say, 'tis shaping up to be an interesting contest. These neddy gits are a lazy lot when they can get away with it, and I think they test the Colonel purposely.

I have mates amongst our lads, but none amongst the Americans. We all definitely stay to our own, which is why I doubt this whole idea of working together will ever come about.

As to your question about our assignment or where we'll end up, I have no idea. We still have no proper equipment, so it's a bit hard to even feel like a proper unit. However, they do say that soon we'll have all our equipment coming in.

Glad to hear you have a mate there. Your Andrew sounds like a good'n. I do miss those days when we was kids! Me best mate here is a French lad named Pvt. Henri Lurent. He and I have hit it off like a house afire. He is from Paris and we've spent a bit of time comparing notes. Seems he also has a mate from the Free French Forces who got shot down somewhere in France and is now a POW. He hasn't heard from him since their last leave in Paris. I don't suppose you'd have heard of him…chap by the name of LeBeau. If you hear anything of him, Henri would be grateful.

As to remembering what you told me, 'course I do. I even keep the silly little wooden duck you carved in me pocket… a reminder to "Duck!"

Maybe you shoulda carved one for yourself, hey mate?

Always,

Hugh


	5. Peter's Letter to Hugh 1 Nov 42

1 Nov 42

Dear Hugh:

Sorry I was not able to write before. Paper has been in short supply. I don't know about you, but it's been bloody cold here. We had a freak snowstorm hit and there's so much snow, we haven't seen the outside of the barracks in days. The snow's fair covered the windows, an' it's cold enough to freeze brass monkeys. We've been tunneling our way to the latrines, and chipping ice off the loos. Okay, that is a bit of an exaggeration, but not much, mate.

That's the thing about the weather over here…it's either rain or snow and not much else in between. We get a few days of hotter than hell summer, but it never lasts long enough to really warm me bones, it seems. Or maybe that's just wishful thinkin' at the moment.

I wanted to tell you, if you can, take a snap of your mate Henri. I will show it to me mate Louis. I think Louis may be the bloke your chum is lookin' for. I am sendin' you snaps of me and Louis, and one of Andrew. Took 'em with me camera before Jerry confiscated it.

There's not much to tell at the moment…cards and swappin' stories are pretty much the ways we pass the time.

Me mate Andrew is the champion storyteller of our group. Half the time I think he tries to come up with tales just to make us wonder how he does it and the other half I figure must be true, because nobody could make up anythin' even half that crazy. He was raised on a reservation, and weaves all sorts of tales. Also, he has a huge family, so there is lots of material there. I think the bloody war will be over before he ever runs out of stories…

Well, not much more to say, so I will close for now, and continue this letter a bit later…

3 Nov

Dear Hugh:

This is Andrew Carter speaking, um, writing now. Peter wanted me to finish this letter for him, because he is in the infirmary right now. He fell off his bunk last night and broke his arm…he must have landed on it weird or something. Anyway, the medic said he will be okay, but he is hurting a lot right now.

I put the two photographs in the envelope like he told me to. It stopped snowing last night, so hopefully the mail will get picked up and you will get this letter real soon.

Peter said to tell you his falling out of bed didn't count as not ducking, and that he did make a wooden duck for himself…he still has it with him. Which I gotta tell you is pretty good…he says he kept it hidden from the Germans by sewing it inside his greatcoat.

I will mail this now, and I hope you get it soon.

Sincerely,

Andrew J. Carter

~TBC~

A/N: No, Newkirk had not fallen off his bunk and no, he hadn't broken his arm. He was hurt picking up two downed fliers in the snow, which was not nearly as heavy as he had painted, and was in the infirmary, but obviously, Andrew could not tell Hugh this. And yes, he will be fine…although, I suppose he really should have ducked!


End file.
